


At Worlds' Edge

by voidknight



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Chara Is Not Evil, Existential Crisis, Gen, Identity Issues, Mystery, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Reality Bending, Recovered Memories, Selectively Mute Kris (Deltarune), Timeline Shenanigans, although they may seem that way, based on my complex theory about how deltarune relates to undertale, starts out in the dark world then transitions to mostly hometown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 07:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidknight/pseuds/voidknight
Summary: Your name is KRIS, and your entire world seems to be falling apart.It's the day after Kris' whirlwind adventure through the Dark World, and nothing feels real anymore. Not to mention that ever since last night, when they somehow lost control of their own body, it feels like a mind that is not their own has been sharing their headspace. Now they have to journey through the worlds of both Dark and Light, as well as the spaces in between, to figure out the true story behind the creation of everything they've ever known.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i started this about a week or so ago! not exactly sure how long it's gonna be, but i have a rough idea of where it's going... hope you enjoy!
> 
> thanks to @Kitsune_Alchemist for helping me develop this story!

When you wake up to light streaming through your window, a calm rushes through you that shouldn’t be there. It strikes you as almost desperate—a detached attempt to mold your emotions into something resembling clarity. Normality. And the first thought that manages to reach into your tired, shattered mind is that it just feels so fake.

You stumble out of bed, suddenly hyper-aware of the calluses on your fingers and the dull ache of your heart pumping inside you. The bed across from you is empty. The broken bird cage is empty, with its door locked shut. Your head is empty too, and you feel like it should be spinning like a striped purple carousel, but it isn’t.

You try to remember who you are.

Your name is KRIS. You live with your mother TORIEL. Against all odds, you do not have blue skin. Your mind is filled with memories from yesterday that seem clearer than the room before you.

Feelings start to bubble up from deep inside you, confusion and fear and a hint of anger. You push them down almost involuntarily. No time for that.

 

But as Toriel drives you to school, you feel like the window through which you watch the townspeople go about their morning business is more like a computer screen than a pane of glass. It all just feels so  _ fake. _

Are you still half-asleep? It’s almost as if, in your slumber, you sunk through the fabric of the world, and now you’re just clawing at its edge, trying to regain your grasp.

 

As you sit in class, not listening to a word Alphys says, you realize two things.

One, something is wrong. Something has always been wrong. You can almost see it now. It’s like (and you realize how stupid this sounds as soon as the thought materializes in your head, though you can’t help but stubbornly cling to the simile because nothing else describes the situation quite as well) everyone here has been transplanted from somewhere else, and some piece of them has been lost in the process.

It’s a terrifying thought.

Two—when Susie walks in, late, dark circles under what little of her eyes you can see, you can instantly tell that your first realization does not apply to her. She’s not like the others, whatever that may mean. And when her gaze immediately falls on you, you think she can tell that something has shifted. What it is, you don’t know.

“You’re acting weird,” she hisses as she takes her seat next to you.

Are you? You don’t reply.

 

You don’t remember what the group project is about at all, but at least you and Susie are partners—so while everyone else is chatting and pulling out papers, the two of you can sit in the back of the classroom and talk undisturbed.

“We should go back,” is the first thing Susie tells you. “We’ve gotta.”

“No,” you hear yourself say.

“What??”

You… don’t know why you said that. A reaction based purely on instinct, or something more? You try again. “I—no. Yes. We should go back.” Echoing her words is easier than formulating your own.

She gives you a dry smile. “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t gonna give you much choice in the matter.”

Even though you know what she means, the statement sends a bolt of inexplicable fear through you. You push it away. You know that you have to go back to the Dark World. Somehow, the enigmatic fantasy land seems more real than the one you’re currently inhabiting.

 

But when Susie stands up and heads toward the door, murmuring to Alphys something about preferring to work in the library (and Alphys responding positively, with an added friendly reminder that books are for reading, not eating; I know you know this, Susie, but the librarian isn’t very happy about last time)—your legs refuse to move. Despite the desperate signals you send to your brain to get going, you’re rooted to the spot.

Susie gives you a look, and that breaks the spell. You follow her out. The door slams shut behind you.

The trek to the closet seems to take forever, and not just because you’re walking slowly. For some reason your brain is taking this time to reevaluate everything you’ve ever done. Every move, word, breath. That was you, right? What the hell, of course it was you, stop being silly, Kris.

You approach the closet, and the pit in your stomach grows deeper.

Susie steps aside. “After you, Kris.”

Terror floods every nook and cranny of your body. Suddenly you’re sprinting in the opposite direction—clumsily, tripping and stumbling—and this time you’re sure you’re not the one in control. It feels exactly like last night, when you—when you—

You don’t even know what happened last night.

_ You can’t go back! _ your mind screams.  _ It’s dangerous and foreign and I—I can’t— _

Your eyes involuntarily well up, and you stop just outside the school. You drop to your knees on the sidewalk and gasp for breath, ignoring the pain that comes when your legs collide with the cement. You can’t think.

Then Susie is beside you, crouching down, a hesitant hand hovering over your shoulder.

“Kris. Fuck, I—what’s going on? Come on, talk to me.”

Your hands are shaking. You don’t think you can speak. You’d sign something—you don’t know what—but the odds that Susie would understand you are pretty small. You let your friend lift you to your feet, guiding you back inside the school. Without her help, you don’t know if you’d be able to do it.

“I guess we could go back tomorrow,” Susie begrudgingly concedes after a moment, “if you’re really not feeling it today.”

You shake your head. “No,” you whisper. “Let’s go. Please.”

The two of you enter the closet, and the darkness engulfs you. You vaguely register the door shutting behind you. Your vision tunnels. Susie’s grip on you tightens.

You trip and fall off the edge of the world.

 

When you sit up, your head is clear. Whatever  _ presence _ had been sharing your headspace is gone. And now you’re certain of it—that from the moment you went to bed last night, your every single waking moment has been shared by an entity that is not a product of the world in which you live. Has it been there for your whole life, unnoticed until you felt its absence in the Dark World, a realm beyond that creature’s domain? The darkness around you illuminates the wonderful void in your mind.

You’re wearing armor and a red cape. Your skin is blue. Your thoughts are your own. It doesn’t feel any more  _ real, _ per se, but it certainly feels more  _ right. _


	2. Chapter 2

Your footsteps echo. Susie walks with a sense of purpose, her back straight and hands curled into loose fists. She’s fighting the instinct to walk faster; she must be conscientious of how slowly and purposefully you’re observing your surroundings. Just for her, you speed up, boots tapping faster against the hard stone ground.

She must be anxious to see Lancer again. You’re not averse to the idea—you have to say he’s grown on you. But Ralsei is the one who’s more likely to hold the answers you’re seeking.

You walk on. Black liquid spills from eye-shaped orifices in the bubbly rock above you. It’s thick and slow and looks like the darkness around you given form.

 

Ralsei is not in his castle. That makes sense, you guess—last you saw, he was all the way up at the Card Castle. You’re not exactly looking forward to making that whole trek again, but hey, at least there won’t be monsters in your way. And Susie is a true ally this time. Officially.

“Maybe he’ll show us around if we come back here,” says Susie, eying the mysterious closed-up shops. Their roofs droop as they’re collapsing under the weight of thousands of years of solitude. You wonder if they’ll ever re-open.

 

You don’t talk much, which isn’t unusual. Sometimes Susie makes a remark or two—on the landscape, on the Card soldiers who wave to you with enthusiasm—but for the most part, you’re silent.

The only time you do speak up is to ask Susie if she has Lancer’s phone number.

She looks at you questioningly. “Don’t think he’s old enough to have a phone, if they even exist down here.”

Out of pure curiosity, you take out your phone and try to call your mom. Instead of ringing, the device emits a strange, surreal, garbled noise that sets every one of your hairs on end. Even though your phone’s speaker is small, the sound seems to fill the area, turning the blackness in the sky darker, yet darker.

You instinctively drop the phone. Susie grabs it mid-air and jabs the button to hang up.

“Sorry,” you say, as she hands it back to you.

“It’s fine,” she grunts, still looking a little rattled. “Don’t do it again.”

 

 

Halfway through your journey across the Field, you notice Seam’s shop (Seap?), small and ragtag as ever. Susie is about to move past it, but you motion her in the other direction—seems like a good place to stop and catch your breath.

Seam peers down at the two of you with that lazy, unreadable smile. “Nice to see you again,” they drawl.

You nod in return, watching the pupils (?) of their eye (??) slowly revolve. You recall the stuffed animal in the unused classroom yesterday.

“Take your time,” Seam offers. “Or” —and here the smile grows a little wider— “if you like, I could answer some of your questions… I bet you’re crawling with ‘em.”

There’s something almost ominous about that suggestion. What does Seam know about the time you spent in the Lightners’ world between yesterday and now? But okay, you’ll bite.

It takes you a second to form the correct words out of the many unsolved mysteries that flit through your mind at that instant. “The Lightners—created you?”

“So the story goes.”

“Is it true?”

“Who knows…!”

Susie lets out an unsatisfied grunt. “Does that explain it, then? The classroom? Then how are you all—” She gesticulates aimlessly. “—Here??”

“Some say it was the workings of a certain man,” continues Seam. “But what do I know? I’m just a shopkeeper…”

What  _ does _ Seam know? Do they know about the strange presence in your head that disappeared once you entered the Dark World? You want to stay and ask more, but Susie is glowering at you, so you nod again to Seam and follow her out.

You think you see them nod back, and there again is that knowing smile on their lips.

 

When you’re on your way again, Susie turns to you with an almost contemplative expression. “It can’t all be fake, right?”

You give her a questioning glance.

“This whole… world. It’s obviously not a dream. There’s no way in hell we’re dreaming right now. Then what is it??”

“I think Seam is right.”

“Yeah?”

You’re not usually this chatty, but you have a theory that can’t go unsaid. You speak slowly. “In the… other world.” You don’t want to say _real world._ “The classroom had objects that reminded me of the Dark World. I don’t think it was a coincidence. I think someone created this world based on all of those things.”

“I mean, yeah, I think that’s what he was getting at. But why’d someone do that?”

You shake your head. You don’t know. But now that you think about it, you do vaguely remember that classroom—playing around with the toys and games inside for hours on end. Though you weren’t alone in that, of course; hundreds of kids over the years must have done the same.

Asriel must have done so as well.

You stop abruptly.

“What’s up?” you hear Susie ask behind you.

The trees are shaped like red legos. Seam is a stuffed animal. You’ve met chess pawns (that tried to attack you) and checkers pieces (with fabulous legs) and playing cards (of all shapes and sizes). But what about Ralsei?

You remember the tiny flicker of _something_ in your heart when he took off his hat and said goodbye.

 _No._ That wouldn’t make any sense. It doesn’t mean anything. A coincidence.

You keep walking.


	3. Chapter 3

It turns out that Susie doesn’t have to wait so long to see Lancer—as soon as you begin to cross the Great Board, you spot a flurry of fiery movement before you. Apparently news travels fast. A joyous shriek pierces the air as Lancer zips past, bike aflame as always, and promptly crashes into a tree. He leaps off the miraculously undamaged vehicle and spreads his arms wide, sporting a grin just as big.

“Fuck yeah!!” cries Susie, and dashes past you, enveloping her friend in a hug and just about lifting him off the ground in the process.

“I knew you’d come back to stay with us!!” he squeals when she lets him go, somewhat out of breath. “Day one of being king and it’s already so awesome!! You are going to love being here so much—”

Susie laughs. “Just visiting, I’m afraid.”

“Visiting?” Lancer’s smile twists into a confused expression.

“Yeah, school is boring as shit so—”

“But… you destroyed the Fountain, didn’t you…?”

Everything stops. Your brain begins to operate in slow motion as the previous happy, warm feeling drains from your mind. No, no, wait. That couldn’t have been the only way out. Lancer and Ralsei and everyone wouldn’t have invited you back if they’d known you wouldn’t have a way to leave.

“What,” says Susie. Her voice is devoid of emotion. “So. We’re stuck here?”

Lancer can only shrug.

“Okay. Fine. That’s fine. The Light world sucks ass anyway.”

You say nothing. She can’t just be accepting this, not with how hard you fought to get out last time. And what about you? Your parents? Sure, the Dark World seems to be solving your strange-entity-taking-over-your-mind problem, but you were hoping to find a more permanent solution before you went back up…

“There, uh.” Lancer scratches the back of his head. “Might be another way out?”

“Oh yeah?”

He shrugs, taking a step back. “I—I dunno. But there is stuff out—there.” He gestures to the blackness beyond the trees, then quickly withdraws his hand as if the darkness will swallow it up if he’s not careful. “You’d have to talk to m—uh, Rouxls.”

Susie quirks an eyebrow. “The guy with the lame-ass puzzles?”

“Yeah!”

“Whaddaya think, Kris? Worth a shot?”

You shrug. You have no opinion on the lame-ass puzzle guy, except for that you think that that probably isn’t how Shakespearean English is supposed to sound, and it bugs you. Although—and you tell this quietly to Susie—you think you should probably also be on the lookout for Ralsei.

Lancer perks up. “Oh! Ralsei! He’s been staying at the castle!”

He begins to prance off across the Board, then suddenly remembers his bike, and runs back to get it. The two of you follow him, careful to avoid his frequent swerves and double-backs, not to mention the jet of fire that somehow hasn’t yet consumed the fragile-looking bicycle.

 

“Welcome back, mine favorite Worms!” crows Rouxls, who is standing in front of the castle as if awaiting your arrival. You don’t think it’s physically possible for him to wipe that perpetual grin off his face. You give him a polite nod, not sure if worms are exactly the best comparison, given that you’re now on the same side.

Lancer takes you inside. Rouxls follows a couple steps behind you. It feels weird to see him actually walking like a normal person instead of dramatically teleporting.

Ralsei is sitting in a rocking chair in the throne room, a book in his lap. Something tugs at your heart when you see him, clad in his usual grass-green cloak and floppy hat, fur back to its normal black. Maybe it’s the resemblance you now see to your brother when he was your age—but with all the colors inverted, the name twisted around, the position flipped. And then there’s the fact that his chair reminds you all too much of your mother’s. And how you and—and Asriel—you’d flop onto it together, burying yourselves in picture books you could barely read but enjoyed spilling ketchup on or doodling in—okay maybe that last one was just you.

He jumps, the book falling out of his lap along with a pencil or two. Now that you can see it more clearly, it looks like a journal he was writing in. He straightens up, just barely managing to stop himself from rushing over to you and Susie.

“Kris!” he exclaims. “Susie! How wonderful to see you again!”

“‘Sup,” says Susie. She starts over, looking like she’s about to give Ralsei a huge clap on the back, but Ralsei jumps away.

“I—one second! I haven’t forgotten about that cake I promised you!”

With that, he’s disappeared down the hall, nothing remaining but his footsteps and the toppled journal.

 

The cake is delicious. You absolutely stuff your face, and so does everyone else, because who cares about manners in fantasy lands of darkness? Meanwhile, Susie narrates what little has happened between now and yesterday—a stretch of time that now seems like weeks. She mentions your reluctance to enter the Dark World, but thankfully explains it away as “anxiety.” She’s not wrong, but you don’t elaborate. Nor do you mention the, uh,  _ episode _ that happened last night. Ralsei doesn’t need to know about that. He’d just get worried.

Lancer entertains you all with exaggerated tales of things he’s going to do now that he’s king. Everyone has to listen to his music, he tells you, with a pointed glance at Rouxls as he says so. But also, everyone can do whatever they want when it comes to jobs and hobbies! Furthermore, he’s considering letting his citizens vote. Not for their ruler, he’s quick to clarify—he likes being in charge—but for other things. Susie has to talk him out of some of his less informed policies, though, such as “no taxes because taxes are stupid.”

But as the minutes turn to hours, you start to worry. You haven’t been gone for as long as you were yesterday, but your mom is not going to be happy. Do you have  _ any _ excuse for your absence? None that you can explain to her in a way she’ll understand.

You have to leave. But first you need answers.

While Susie and Lancer are shrieking with laughter over some anecdote from yesterday, you quietly pull Ralsei into a close-by room and pull the door shut behind you. He removes his hand from yours and gives you a questioning stare.

“Um… Kris, is something wrong?”

You try to conjure in your mind the events of last night. Can’t. Can’t think, can’t speak. You bring your hands up and sign, without regard for whether or not Ralsei can understand you, “I don’t know.”

He nods. “Take your time.”

You imagine the incident as if you were observing it. Choose each word carefully. Relay it to your shaking hands.

“Something happened. I don’t feel like myself. I feel like being down here changed me. Or revealed some part of me I hadn’t recognized before. It” —and here you reconsider, phrasing it in a way that isn’t as viceral— “tried to take control of me. I need to figure out how to stop it.”

Ralsei’s eyes are wide. He nods again, almost unconsciously this time. “Oh… oh dear. Is it still in your head right now?”

“No, only in the Light world.”

“I see.” He takes a deep breath. “I… if you ever need any moral support, Kris, I am more than willing to offer my assistance. But I’ve never heard of a case like this. It sounds like you might need professional help. I am so sorry.”

He puts a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. You look at the floor, deflated and somewhat angry. Why would you expect him to know what to do? He may be a magical Prince from the Dark, but he can’t do  _ anything. _

“It’s fine,” you say aloud, and switch the subject. “Do you know how the Dark World was created?”

Ralsei starts. “Oh! I do know quite a bit about our history, but… nothing of its creation, I’m afraid. That was a very long time ago.” He perks up suddenly. “If you like, I have a huge library back in my own castle! I would love to show it to you—if you’re interested, of course.”

“Maybe,” you tell him in the most cheerful tone you can muster. It could be very useful. But you were hoping for a more… immediate solution.

As if on cue, the door opens with a click and Rouxls Kaard glides in. He pauses. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” says Ralsei instantly, politely stepping back to give Rouxls more space.

“I heardst that thou wast interested in a way to exit this Worlde without the use of Fountains?”

You nod.

“Very well! Shalt we get to it?”

“Now?” Ralsei asks, glancing down the hall into the throne room, where Lancer and Susie are still chatting, oblivious. “What about Susie?”

Rouxls shrugs. “She hast expressethed an interest in staying—did thou not hear her?”

He’s not… wrong, per se. Susie has been much happier in the past couple hours than you’ve ever seen her in the Light world. But you’d rather check for yourself. Besides, if she does want to stay, you’ll have to say goodbye.

But when you try to leave the room, Rouxls doesn’t move from the door’s threshold. “Where areth thou going? Thy exit is to the left.”

“May Kris speak with Susie?” says Ralsei.

“No,” says Rouxls.

“Why not?”

He blinks, searching for an excuse. Okay, maybe this isn’t the best person to trust with your safety in getting out of the Dark World. You’re about to push past him when he cries “No reason!” and steps gracefully out of your way, folding his arms behind his back as you walk out.

“What’s up?” asks Susie when she sees you.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Go? Where?”

“Home.”

Her face falls. “Right. Yeah.” She sighs. “Look, Kris. I know we gotta go back. But can you just give me a day? I need some time away from the other world, okay?”

You wait for her to say more, but it looks like she’s not quite ready to be  _ that _ candid just yet. Okay. Rouxls was right, you suppose.

“What will I tell everyone?”

She snorts. “That I ditched class? I don’t really give a shit what they think.”

The exchange feels incomplete. Again you wonder if Susie could feel the artificiality of the Light world as strongly as you could. But you wouldn’t know how to phrase any of that. So you just nod and tell her goodbye.

“See you around, Kris.”

Your gaze lingers on her for a second, then you turn and walk back to the room where Ralsei and Rouxls are standing.

Rouxls claps his hands together. “So! Art we ready?”

You guess so. You’re about to follow him out the other door when Ralsei calls out to you.

“Wait! Wait, I’m coming too.”

Rouxls’ smile falters for a second, then it’s back in full force. “Wanteth to see thine friend off?”

“Yes—yes, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

As the two of you follow Rouxls, Ralsei whispers to you, “I don’t think you should go alone.”

You sign, “Why?”

Ralsei’s eyes go to the back of Rouxls’ head. “I don’t know if I trust him.”

That’s fair. Very fair. You don’t think you’d want to go on a journey with only the crackpot Duke of Puzzles for company. And besides, maybe you’ll get to know Ralsei some more. That would be nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rouxls is extremely fun to write but it pains me to bastardize early modern english like that....


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here, in my opinion, is where things start to get interesting...
> 
> hope everyone is enjoying this so far! and feel free to comment, too, if you feel so inclined!

Rouxls Kaard leads you to the elevator and presses one of the buttons. You stand silently, listening to the long drone of the machine. Could use some better elevator music, you reckon.

When the doors open and the three of you step outside, the platform before you is all too familiar. A series of bright blue lanterns on the wall softly illuminate a flight of stairs. At the bottom is a flickering silver light that gives off no glow—and a door. A door made of bars.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” whispers Ralsei.

“Yes,” says Rouxls, and starts to descend. Images flash through your mind—memories of yesterday and a game that seemed to last forever. The world spins, spins.

The last time you saw this door, it had faded into the darkness. But it’s here now. And somehow, when Rouxls pushes at the door, it opens—no keys needed.

But the cell inside is… well, it’s just a cell. No revolving carousel of purple and blue. And where’s the prison’s former occupant? Now it’s an empty room, that the darkness has inhabited so fully that it seems to ebb and flow across the floor, oozing from the walls and creeping out the open door. Yesterday—was all that just an illusion?

As your eyes adjust—if they even can adjust in a blackness this absolute—you make out the shape of a door at the far end. Rouxls’ silhouette heads towards it. You follow. It seems to take forever.

But when that door opens, and you step, blinking, into the space beyond, you feel a profound, crippling sense of  _ wrongness. _ The door to the cell is suspended in the air, and all around you is a pure white void. It’s a plane that stretches forever, with no end in sight, on and on in all directions with absolutely nothing but yourselves.

Rouxls shuts the door, and it fades into nonexistence. He starts to walk.

This is not right. You’re not supposed to be doing this. You feel like you’ve stepped out of bounds, clipped through the fabric of the universe and ended up here, the antithesis of everything you know of the Dark World.

Ralsei takes one step and crumples to his knees. Shaking. You instantly bend down, putting a hand on his back. It’s cold.

“I’m sorry,” comes Rouxls’ distant singsong voice. “I shouldst have warned thee—Darkners are not supposed to come here.”

What does that  _ mean? _ Is Rouxls not a Darkner? Is Ralsei okay? But Ralsei is already picking himself up, leaning on your arm for support.

“I’m okay,” he breathes. “Just… disoriented.”

He looks like he’s about to pass out, like all his atoms are about to shudder out of their respective places and shatter across the void, but you accept his excuse and press on.

 

Maybe it takes minutes. Maybe years. You’re not quite sure. The blankness stretches on, neverending. Somehow, Rouxls knows where to go.

At one point in your trek, you spot something on the horizon. It’s dark, making it stand out. As you get closer, it seems to be a figure, lying down. Jevil. He’s fast asleep, his form flickering as it did when you defeated him, only in a more random pattern as if he’s glitching out.

“Should we wake him?” asks Ralsei.

You don’t want to risk it.

 

At some point, you run to catch up to Rouxls, having finally mustered the courage and the words to speak with him.

“Who are you?” you ask.

“I amst Rouxls Kaard, the Duke of Puzzles!” he cries. The long journey seems to have had no effect on his energy levels.

“Where are we?”

“Neither in the Worlde of Darkness, or that of Light.”

“How did we get here?”

“Through the Door.”

“Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“I am,” he insists.

After that, you need a bit of a break. Too much talking. You motion Ralsei forward instead, who clears his throat.

“Excuse me, sir, but… this is very strange.”

“And therefore as a stranger give it welcome!”

You think that’s a quote from something.

“Where are you taking us?”

“We art travelling to the Light world.”

“Can Darkners… exist in the Light world?”

“The Lightners can existeth in the Dark World.”

“I hope we can,” Ralsei says to you quietly, but he still looks wary.

 

Your stamina is not infinite, and there comes a time when you and Ralsei have to stop and rest. You pull off your boots and sit cross-legged on the smooth, white floor. It feels warmer than it should be, as if something is heating it from below, though not in a pleasant way. Meanwhile, Ralsei shivers beside you, tucking his bare feet into his cloak as he sinks to his knees. Rouxls lies down a couple feet away, reclining dramatically and tapping his fingers against the ground in a lazy rhythm.

Suddenly, Ralsei draws his hands out of his cloak and begins to sign to you. It’s harder for him, with his stubby, paw-like fingers, but he’s surprisingly adept at the language. You wonder where he learned it. “Do you think you should tell him about your… problem?”

“Problem?” you respond in the same.

“The being in your head.”

A chill flows through you, despite the relative warmth. “Would he be able to help?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

You glance at Rouxls. He’s staring off into the distance, oblivious of any conversation between you and Ralsei. Maybe it would be worth a shot.

“Would you like me to ask him for you?”

“Sure,” you sign. “Thanks.”

Ralsei clears his throat, and Rouxls’ attention snaps back to him. “Um… sorry to bother you, but have you ever heard of any strange cases of possession?”

“Possessione? What manner of Possessione?”

“Maybe, uh….” He looks at you for help, and you shrug. “Feelings of insecurity? Of sharing your headspace with another being who can control your movements?”

“I know not of anything like that,” replies Rouxls. He sounds somewhat mystified.

“Are you sure it isn’t something like dissociative identity disorder?” Ralsei asks you quietly. You shake your head. No, it isn’t quite like that. There’s something else going on.

A minute later, Rouxls springs to his feet. “Art ready to move?? There is more grounde to cover!”

You sigh and begin to put your boots back on.

 

“How much longer?” you ask, later.

“It is not far.”

Ralsei pipes up again. “Rouxls… I have to ask. How are you able to access this place? To… break the rules in this way?”

“I  _ maketh _ the Rules,” he responds with a sly grin.

“Are you a Lightner?” you ask suddenly. You remember what he said earlier, about Darkners not being allowed here.

Rouxls laughs. “No, no. I wast created here, like the others. But I doth not fully remember mine Origins.” His grin wavers again, and he waves the thought away. “It mattereth not. Beholde! Thine Exit.”

As he gestures into thin air, the outline of a door reveals itself. It’s larger than the one you came from. A simple flick of Rouxls’ wrist throws it open, revealing darkness once more. But not absolute darkness—a more nuanced darkness, unlike one you would find in a world full of black.

You shuffle in. The door shuts.

It looks like a small laboratory. Computers with large screens fill the space, all of them turned off. Wires crisscross the floor and tubing hangs from the ceiling. A large apparatus that looks somewhat like an animal skull sits on a table at the back. Blueprints line the walls.

A man sits at a desk in the corner. He’s wearing a long black cloak and looking at a screen. When he turns to you, it becomes instantly clear that he is not a human, nor a monster. His skin (is it skin? or bone?) is very pale, and long, dark cracks extend up from one of his eyes and down from the other. There’s an aura of displacement to him—the same thing you felt in that liminal white void, the feeling that he is not supposed to be here, that he bends time and space just by existing on the same plane of reality as you.

Rouxls starts. “Sorry to disturb you, sir!”

The man grins, and vanishes into thin air.

Seconds pass. Ralsei whispers, “Who was that?”

“That,” says Rouxls, “is the Architect of the Dark World.”

There’s a set of doors at the other end of the room. They seem a dark red color, though it’s difficult to tell without much light. You head towards them, eyeing the heavy locks. As if by magic (and it probably is by magic), one of them clicks open. A shaft of light—natural light—streams into the building. Ralsei shields his eyes.

“Art thou ready?” asks Rouxls.

You turn to Ralsei. He’s squinting at the door as if trying to decide whether or not to sprint over.

“Well,” he says. “I suppose this is goodbye, for now?”

He isn’t coming with you?

“No, I… I think I should stay.”

You look between him, Rouxls, and the door. You consider hugging him, but… this can’t be the last time you’ll see each other. So you just nod. And smile. You give him a big, wide smile and hope to god it looks genuine.

Outside are familiar trees, olive-green grass, blue sky. A strange hum fills the air. You’ve just emerged from the mysterious bunker at the bottom of town.

The door slams shut as soon as you step out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had a lot of fun writing this chapter!! enjoy...

You wait for your head to start spinning, for emotions that are not your own to fog up your mind, anything at all. But the only change is in your appearance—no more armor, clunky boots, red scarf, blue skin. Just a plain green sweater with a single yellow stripe. You feel for your sword, instinctively, and it’s no longer there; your hand clutches a dull yellow pencil. But other than that… strangely, you feel the same.

As soon as you’ve got your bearings, you whip around and tug at the vine-encrusted doors you just stepped out of. Nothing. Locked. Okay. You press your ear to the cool metal, listening for any sound of conversation, any footsteps to indicate the presence of your friend. There’s nothing but the incessant hum.

You remember your mother warning you about this place. Telling you that something “feels off” about it and that she doesn’t trust whoever owns it. You can certainly understand her apprehension now, though, as always, you don’t plan to stay away from it like she’s instructed you multiple times.

Fortunately, when you retrieve your phone, it looks like there are a couple more hours to go until school’s over. Seems like your whole adventure didn’t take as long as you thought it had. And now your mom won’t be worried about you like she was yesterday. If you’re careful, you can probably just sneak back into school and resume your classes as if nothing happened.

But what about Susie? Will her parents worry after her? She’ll probably be fine—she has a reputation for cutting class and getting into trouble, so you doubt her disappearance will be anything too surprising.

Though you do wonder how she’ll get back. You presume Rouxls will take her through the same blank void he did you and Ralsei. And hopefully Ralsei will return to the Dark World safe and sound.

You give the bunker one more glance, running a hand over the unkempt grass on the hill surrounding it, then turn and begin the walk back to your school.

 

“Kris!!” cries a familiar voice just as you’re passing the diner.

It’s Alphys. She’s jogging up to you, clutching the remains of a lunch. Makes sense—it should be just about the end of lunchtime at school, so she must’ve popped out to get something with a bit more flavor than the multicolored mush they serve in the cafeteria.

“Man, you and Susie must’ve gotten really carried away with that project!” she says when she catches up. “Or… did you skip class again? I don’t mean to judge, of course! I just think some of the other teachers might not be so happy… but, uh, I can talk to them if you like! I don’t want you to get in trouble just because….”

You don’t reply. It’s a good thing Alphys is on your side—and you’re honestly starting to warm up to her.

“Did you sneak out to get lunch too?” she continues. “I can’t blame you for wanting something different.”

After how much she’s talked, you decide you probably owe her an answer. “No, I was just… walking around.”

Alphys’ eyebrows rise. She certainly hadn’t expected a multi-word response to her rhetorical question. “O-oh! That’s great! I… I can definitely understand if you need a break from that cramped classroom sometimes.”

You nod. She’s not wrong.

The two of you walk in silence for a couple more seconds. Then a thought occurs to you. She used to be a scientist, right? Or at least she studied some kind of science in college.

“Do you know who lives in the bunker down there?” you ask suddenly, pointing to the direction from which you came.

Alphys starts. She opens her mouth as if to answer, then promptly closes it, eyes flicking around the street to make sure no one’s in earshot. Finally, she tells you, “Uh… it used to be owned by one of my old colleagues, I think. But after he died… w-well, it’s just been locked up like that.”

“Who was your colleague?”

“Wow, Kris, you’re, ah, you’re really talkative today! Um… his name was W.D. Gaster. He was a weird guy! He—”

She pauses. Her gaze floats in the direction of the bunker. Something stirs deep within you, as if the name elicited a kind of response, but you can’t think what it would be.

“Funny,” she continues. “I… can’t remember much about him. How  _ did _ I meet him? Uh, I guess it doesn’t matter. If you’re interested in his work, I bet the library has some of his papers! In fact… reading and dissecting a serious scientific article would definitely get you extra credit in my class… it’s not easy stuff, you know!”

You’ve reached the school. As soon as you’re inside, you thank Alphys, and run off to your next class before she can say goodbye. Her words are still churning in your mind.

 

The rest of the day passes quickly. Between classes, you stop by the closet door to the Dark World. It’s locked. So is the unused classroom, to your dismay. The question of Ralsei’s analogue in the Light World still bothers you, and it seems like that classroom is the one place you might be able to find answers.

When school’s over, you call your mom to tell her you’ll be hanging out with a friend for the rest of the afternoon. Blatant lies, of course. But her tone shifts instantly, as if you can hear her face light up through the phone.

“Is this the same friend as yesterday? I am so glad you asked this time! It is nice to hear you’re finally connecting with someone. What’s their name?”

“Susie,” you say quietly.

“Susie! I don’t remember her. Do you know if she was in preschool here? Ah, no, of course you kids aren’t going to talk about boring teacher stuff like that. Have fun! Don’t forget to be back before dinner!”

She hangs up, and you exhale. That’s one less thing you have to worry about.

 

You decide to take Alphys’ advice and visit the library. (Er, Librarby?) A couple students you recognize are lounging around—Temmie, as always, is studying hard. And then, of course, there’s the blue bird-monster with the drooping head, whose yellow eyes follow you as they stand, completely still, in front of the doorway to the stairs. You feel like you’ve seen them before, though you can’t recall where.

However, the shelves hold none of the answers you’re seeking. When you ask the intern for “scientific articles,” they point you to the nonfiction section. Somehow you don’t think that’s what Alphys meant.

When you try to check upstairs, the bird blocks your path, repeating something about how much they love the books. Especially the books upstairs. You should really read them, they say. You ask them to move. They don’t. They say nothing more. They don’t blink.

You leave, feeling a little pissed.

 

You spend an hour wandering around town. You’re not sure what you’re looking for—anything out of the ordinary, you guess. And while you stop by to check in on some of the friends—er, acquaintances—you caught up with yesterday, you still can’t shake the feeling that something is off. The persistent presence still hasn’t reasserted itself in your head (you think it might try again tonight, and the thought leaves a dark pit in your stomach), so you feel like the lens through which you view this world is… purer, in a way. In some ways, it’s like experiencing the whole place for the first time. It’s an odd, uncanny sensation.

Although you pass Sans’ house twice, he isn’t there either time. Too bad. There’s something about him that seems more genuine than some of the others, who aren’t much more than cardboard cutouts.

You run into Noelle. She asks after Susie. You tell her you haven’t seen her recently. 

You hear strangers narrate to you stories about you and Asriel, stories you barely remember. And that makes you think about Asriel. About the time you spent together—laughing, crying, playing, talking.

How much of it was real? How much of it was really  _ you? _

You’re overcome with a sudden tide of emotion, and have to leave some random monster in the middle of an anecdote about when she and Asriel were kids, prattling away to herself as if you weren’t even part of the conversation.

You abscond into the woods, barely watching where you’re going. Asriel went off to college. Where? You never asked. No one ever told you. You never hear of places beyond your town, even though you know they exist. But do they really? And why is it called Hometown? Who called it that? Why did you never think of that before?

Leaves, branches, thorns, the crunch of dirt. You’re running, running. The world is spinning, spinning. You’re thinking too fast. Each tree is too similar to the next, a copy-pasted asset superimposed onto the backdrop of the universe.

A voice. It’s tantalizingly familiar, yet you’ve never heard it before in your life.

“Chara—??”

Your heart stops.

Before you, in a tiny clearing, surrounded by bright orange trees on all sides, is a flower. It looks just like one of your dad’s—golden, six-petalled, almost the size of your face. But it has eyes, and a mouth, which it’s using to gape at you.

Okay, now  _ this _ is maybe a little out of the ordinary.

“Of course it’s you,” muses the flower, and the instinct to  _ run _ bubbles up inside you, but you stand your ground. You’ve seen weirder things than a talking flower. “Your determination… nothing else could be this strong.”

You force out the words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think I don’t know another vessel when I see one? Look. Chara. I don’t care what you’re doing, I just want to go home. I want to stop being a flower and I want to go home. I doubt that would even take 1% of your power! This is a sick way to treat your friend—”

“I don’t know who you are,” you whisper.

The flower gives you a good, long stare. It’s as if they’re looking into your soul. Whatever that may be.

“This isn’t funny,” they say quietly.

“It isn’t,” you agree.

“Stop. Stop it. You know you can’t just  _ forget. _ Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard to forget, Chara! It would be so much easier if I could just forget, and live each time like it was really a new life, but that isn’t possible.”

The flower takes a deep, shuddering breath. You stay frozen in your spot.

“Is that why you did all this? For a new experience? I… I can respect that. But I can’t believe that years of living in this miserable little town has made you  _ forget. _ Forget me? Your best friend? All we’ve been through together?”

“I’m sorry.”

They blink. “For—?”

Your hands are shaking, but you try to keep your voice steady. “I… think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

Pause. A long, dark pause.

“I might be,” says the flower finally. “Your face—it looks a little different. But I can’t remember if that’s just how the vessel looked from the start.”

There it is, that word again.  _ Vessel. _

“What’s your name?” you ask. Somehow that’s the only one of your million questions you can put into words.

“Flowey,” they tell you, and they almost seem to perk up a little, as if reciting a familiar script. “Flowey the flower! Nice to meet you, I guess.”

And before you can say anything else, their petals fold up around them and they—and he? —vanishes into the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, i've been pretty busy, but finally, here's another chapter!

It takes at least five minutes for you to find your way out of the woods. Your head is clearer than it was before, but your encounter with Flowey has once more filled you with thousands of questions. At this rate, you’re almost better off giving up on trying to understand the complex nature of the reality around you.

When you’re finally back in the town, you find yourself near Asgore’s shop. Should you go in? Being a gardener, he might have some explanation for Flowey. Eventually, though, you decide against it—this is no ordinary flower you’re dealing with, and the whole situation almost certainly falls outside the bounds of your father’s knowledge.

You’ve still got an hour before you’re due back home, so you wander in the direction of your school. If you’re lucky, it’ll still be open.

It is. Although the school day is over, you spot some of the teachers still working in their offices. You wonder why they don’t just go home, but that train of thought comes to a halt when you spot Alphys, erasing the blackboard in one of the classrooms. You wave to her, and she starts, dropping the eraser and hurrying to let you in.

“Kris!” she exclaims. “I—didn’t expect to see you here so late!”

You could say the same of her—at least until you consider that she seems to spend most of her time outside of school in an abandoned alleyway, and the school building is probably a lot nicer than that.

“Can you let me into one of the classrooms?” you ask quietly.

“Oh! Sure! Just… let me get my keys.” She fishes around in her bag, finally producing a keychain shaped like… uh, you think it’s a pink cat woman? Before you can figure out what it is, Alphys tucks it into her pocket and looks at you expectantly. Oh, right, she doesn’t know which classroom you’re talking about.

You lead Alphys to the unused classroom, and she frowns when she looks up at it.

“Wow, we haven’t used this one in years… did you want to come back just for the nostalgia, or…?”

You shrug. She seems to understand, and unlocks the door.

Everything is exactly as you left it yesterday. Legos, chess pieces, checkers, cards, spilling out across the floor. Seam’s plushie seems to eye you from its position at the edge of the room. You give it a tiny wave, then get back to the reason you came here—the cupboard.

Most of the card deck is in here, as well as a good amount of checkers pieces. All the King cards have been banished to the bottom shelf. Opening the cupboard door fully reveals a box of tarot cards, along with the boxes for all the other aforementioned games. You carefully take each one out and rifle through its contents.

Finally, you turn back to Alphys, waiting patiently by the door, and ask, “Where’s the rules card?”

She blinks, your query bringing her out of whatever spaced-out state she’d been in seconds ago. “Uh, for which game?”

“Any of them.”

“Why, do you want to play one?”

“No, just curious.”

You fold up each box and place it back exactly where you found it, then begin to scour the rest of the shelves. There’s a bird puppet. A plastic easter egg. One of those posable figures artists use for anatomy reference. An old, faded sign for a bake sale.

There’s nothing here that reminds you of Ralsei. Could he be one of the Hearts cards? Somehow, he feels too distinct to be just that. Is there a place in the classroom you’ve missed?

You check behind the cupboard, and your heart skips a beat when you notice something wedged between it and the wall. It’s a piece of what you think is paper. You pull it out, fingers trembling—but no, it’s just the rules card from the box that the card deck came in. The lettering in the title is all fancy and medieval. Oh well, at least that’s one mystery solved.

You consider wedging the card back behind the cupboard, but for some reason you change your mind, dropping the card into your pocket. You’re not sure why. Call it an experiment.

“I’m done,” you tell Alphys.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks while she re-locks the room.

“Sort of.”

On the way back, you notice the closet, and point to it. “Do you have the keys for that?”

Alphys glances at it, and shakes her head. “No… that closet’s been locked for a while. Not sure why… though I can’t say it’s not relatable.” She laughs, somewhat dryly, as if making a joke only she can understand.

 

You head back home when the sun starts to set, making one final pass by Sans’ house first. You even knock on the door this time, but no one’s home. Either that, or he’s purposely ignoring you.

Toriel leaps from her seat when you enter the house, beaming harder than you’ve seen her in a while. “Kris, honey! I just received word that your brother will be home sooner than expected!”

You stop. Stare at her. Two vastly different emotions crash through your brain, both strong enough to make you take a step backward. On the one hand, you’re overjoyed. You haven’t had a word from Asriel in months, and now, here he is, on his way home. Not lost. Not trapped outside the boundaries of this insular universe. He’s coming back, in the flesh, and you cannot wait to throw yourself into his arms and listen to all his tales from beyond the town.

But on the other… what if he’s just like the rest of them, unable to see the broken, artificial tranquility of this world? What if he’s changed? Or worse—what if you’ve changed, and he’s no longer able to recognize you? It’s a silly thought, but what with everything that’s happened recently, you’d sadly be unsurprised if Asriel, like your mother, remarked on how you don’t seem quite yourself.

“When?” you manage to choke out.

“Tomorrow!” sings Toriel, and the butterflies in your stomach multiply. That’s too soon—you can’t un-fuck-up the world in a day…

You force a smile, and Toriel returns the expression, though you think you see a hint of worry in her face.

 

As you eat dinner—a veggie pot pie, fresh out of the oven—and Toriel happily chatters away about how glad she is for Asriel’s speedy return, your thoughts once more go to your episode last night. Whatever protective influence the Dark World has retained on your identity is sure to once more wear off when you fall asleep, and that other being will take over again. Will they rip out your soul and make your world go dark? Last night, it somehow found its way back into your body, but who knows if you can count on it this time—maybe they’ll take over fully, and you’ll be powerless to stop them…

Your mom notices your aversion to sleeping early and asks if you’d like to hear a bedtime story. You refuse—bedtime stories are for kids. But you kind of regret it when she gives you a little smile, turns off the lights in your room, and shuts the door. You’re alone with your thoughts, now, tossing and turning in your bed.

Maybe if you don’t go to sleep, you won’t be so vulnerable. Maybe you could run away and try to find another entrance to the Dark World, where you’re safe. A welcoming void, not like the threatening darkness that pools in your room now, watching you.

What if this is the last time you’ll ever be truly yourself? What if the other being destroys your soul and continues on without you? Would anyone notice a change? Susie would. What about your mother? What about Asriel?

If that happens… you’ll never get to see Asriel again.

You start to cry. Silently, so Toriel won’t hear—but nonetheless, tears slide down your face and stain your pillow. It’s the time of night when everything goes just a bit out of focus—when abstract symbols play across the surface of your brain, repeating and doubling back to the tune of your anxious heartbeat. You don’t think you can tear your eyes away from the images in your mind—of a hand that is not your own, clutching your blood-red soul.

Eventually, though, your consciousness slips away from you and you black out from pure exhaustion. Not even existential dread can keep you awake.

 

The next thing you see is a black void, stretching out in front of you with no break in the darkness. You can’t feel your body. Dead silence surrounds you. You’re a shard of consciousness, hovering in a world where sound doesn’t exist.

A figure appears before you. Shortish. Dressed in your same clothes—the green sweater with a single yellow stripe. Their skin is much paler than yours, almost deathly pale, and their cheeks are flushed. They have mouse-brown hair that’s cleanly cut in nearly the same style as yours, but their bangs fail to hide their bright red eyes.

They’re smiling.

“Greetings,” they say, and you can’t hear their voice, but you know they’re speaking aloud—or, at least, that’s how your brain processes the unfamiliar input. “I am Chara. It is nice to meet you properly.”

You have no means to reply, but even if you could, you would simply stare. So this is who Flowey mistook you for. Yeah, you can see the resemblance. It’s uncanny.

“We are in need of a compromise,” continues Chara. A simple statement, as if of a fact that both of you have agreed on.

Your fingers twitch. Feeling comes back into your arms, and you sign, “What kind of compromise?”

“You have put me into a difficult position. Your determination is far stronger than mine. How unprecedented.”

Their eyes stare through you, into you. You recall, for no reason at all, the faint, blinking lights scattered across the Dark World, the ones only you can see.

“I understand that you would like to retain full control over this body. Although it wouldn’t be my ideal option, it is possible for us to coexist. I can help you do that, under two conditions. First, you must let no one discover the true nature of this world. Least of all, Asriel.”

“What  _ is _ the true nature of this world?”

“I created it,” says Chara simply.

“How?”

“Determination.”

“Why?”

Some emotion flickers across Chara’s face. “Curiosity,” is all they tell you. You have a feeling that’s not all there is to say.

“And…” You’re almost afraid to ask. “What am I?”

“A human cannot absorb a human soul, so I needed a vessel. You were my vessel. However, there was… something somewhat faulty. I suspect it’s the fault of my supplier. You weren’t supposed to develop a personality, let alone your  _ own _ soul.”

As if to demonstrate, their hold up both of their hands in front of them, and a shining red heart appears in each. One flickers white for a second, as if glitching out. You suspect that one must be yours.

Chara closes their fists, and the souls vanish as if smothered by their fingers. You feel a twinge in your nonexistent chest.

So… so that’s it, then? What are you? A vessel, made to be hollow but decidedly not so. Have you been like this your entire… life? Existence? You remember the experience of being a young child; you remember making countless decisions that you assumed were your own, but…

“At first it was just me,” Chara tells you, anticipating the question that your shaking hands can’t seem to form. “And then, you slowly came into being. The shift in control was gradual; you wouldn’t have felt it. We were united for a while, but by the time we were ten or so, you were guiding most of our interactions. I could have taken over at any time, of course. But that would have broken our synchronization. Then, one day… I couldn’t seem to control you at all.”

Yesterday. Or was it two days ago now? Time seems to have stopped, doubled back on itself. You recall the strange freedom that began the moment you woke up.

“I suspect that external forces were involved. Not to mention your expedition to the Dark World, where I have no agency whatsoever. Which leads me to the second condition of my compromise.”

You watch them, already knowing what they’re going to say, and feeling dread sink into your stomach as they put into words your exact thoughts.

“You must destroy the Dark World. It is an alien entity encroaching on my creation. If something goes wrong, its power could become too strong, and everything I have worked toward for the past fourteen years will be lost. Now. Do you accept the conditions?”

You say nothing. You think about Ralsei and Lancer and Seam and even Rouxls.

“Kris. I am giving you a choice. You do not get many of those.”

It sounds like a threat, delivered with a sweet smile. You stay silent. Could you destroy the home—and perhaps even the consciousnesses—of your new friends, all for a selfish end? But conversely, could you give up your entire identity for a fantasy land of people you’ve known for a day?

“If you don’t accept,” continues Chara, “I will take matters into my own hands.”

As if to illustrate their point, you feel your arms rise of their own volition. Your fingers echo Chara’s warning.  _ I will take matters into my own hands. _ It’s the same sensation as last night—the clumsy, stumbling movement that’s slow but powerful.

A sudden noise pierces the void, and the darkness seems to shatter with it. It’s the sound of a toilet flushing—Toriel must have gotten up to use the bathroom. It’s so mundane that you almost don’t recognize it for what it is. Chara starts, then all of a sudden vanishes along with their constructed microcosm.

Your eyes snap open to the familiarity of your room, heart pounding as if you’ve fallen from a great height. Toriel’s soft footsteps sound in the hall outside. The clock reads 3:45 AM.

“Chara?” you whisper aloud.

Nothing. They’re gone. It’s only you.


	7. Chapter 7

Chara isn’t there when you wake up, either. No forced calm, no overwhelming sense of falseness. Suspicious. Have they just gotten better at hiding themself within your mind? Or is it as if you were back in the Dark World, where they’re truly cut off? Which brings up another question… even if they can’t control you, can they still see through your eyes? It’s not a pleasant thought—despite the fact they’ve been here your entire life (and then some), it still feels like they’re invading your privacy.

Or have  _ you _ been invading  _ their _ privacy? Chara was here first, after all. That suddenly brings a whole new light to the issue—agreeing to coexist with you is a sacrifice for them, too.

You wonder why they don’t just destroy you. It must have something to do with what they called  _ determination _ —which you apparently have more of than they do.

“You look a bit preoccupied,” says Toriel when you come downstairs. “Is something on your mind?”

You smile slightly. She has no idea.

 

Susie is not at school, which leaves two possibilities as to her whereabouts. Either she’s still in the Dark World, or she’s just late as usual. With your partner gone (and your primary distraction gone with her), you’re forced to do actual work on the project—and although it certainly isn’t the most pressing issue in your life right now, you have to admit that it feels good to get it out of the way.

Near the end of class, you approach Alphys. She hastily minimizes the window she has open on her computer (it looks suspiciously like a webcomic about grey, horned aliens, rather than whatever she’s supposed to be doing) and looks up at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t have a partner, Kris! Hopefully Susie will be back tomorrow… she has a lot to catch up on!”

Instead of commenting on Susie’s absence, you say, “Can I ask you a science question?”

She perks up. “Oh! Yeah, anytime!”

“What’s determination?”

“Determination,” Alphys muses. Her eyes cloud over, as if she’s trying to remember something from the distant past. “I, uh, assume you mean the substance? Rather than the emotion.”

You shrug. If it’s a substance, that’s all the more interesting.

“I don’t remember much about it,” she eventually confesses. “It’s a quality that human souls naturally possess. But what does it do…?” She stops, eyebrows furrowed, looking lost. “Why can’t I remember…?”

Seconds pass. Then she snaps out of it, shaking her head. “Sorry… I don’t think I can help you. Maybe you should see if the library has any info?”

You make a mental note to check the library again later. Maybe the mysterious bird monster will let you upstairs this time.

 

Lunch begins, and there’s still no sign of Susie. You don’t have her phone number—and besides, if she were in the Dark World, it wouldn’t be any use trying to call her. It’s been more than a day, though… she promised she’d be back by now…

How is she going to leave the Dark World, anyway? Through the strange, blank void? Would Ralsei accompany her like he did for you? Or does Rouxls Kaard have some other mysterious way out—some portal, perhaps, or a spell?

_ Rouxls. _ Shit. Fishing around in your backpack, you retrieve the card that you stole from the unused classroom yesterday. Its medieval lettering seems to wink back at you. Could Susie have not returned because you effectively removed her only way home? It’s a silly thought, that that one room could hold so much authority over the Dark World… but you never know.

You find yourself asking Alphys, once again, to let you into the classroom.

She chuckles. “Wow… no one’s been in there for years, and now you seem to be really interested! Er, n-not that that’s a bad thing! Hey, actually… I have something for you.”

Alphys leads you back to her own classroom. A couple younger students—fifth grade boys, you think—are goofing off in there, drawing pictures of butts on the blackboard, but they scramble out when Alphys gives them a look. Leading you to her desk, Alphys pulls open one of the drawers and produces a card, evidently from the deck in the unused classroom. It’s a joker.

“Looks like this was missing from the deck in there,” says Alphys as she hands the card to you. “I can’t remember how it got here… maybe some kids hid it here for a prank? But that would have to be years ago…”

Your eyes are fixed on the figure of a purple jester, printed onto the card. Memories of a conversation before a particularly brutal battle come back to you—  _ They locked up their entire race, building a prison around the whole world. Now I’m the only free one. _

Is it possible that removing Jevil’s card from the classroom gave him that sort of awareness? And if so… what happened when you took out Rouxls’ card?

“I need to put these back,” you tell Alphys, the panic in your mind translating to an urgency in your voice. She looks confused, but nods.

“Oh—okay! Yeah, let’s do that.”

 

The old classroom is, once again, the same as it was yesterday. But when you open the cupboard door, you could swear that some of the scattered cards have changed positions. Now, the question is where to put Rouxls and Jevil. Together? Separate? In the cupboard or somewhere else? You eventually decide to put the rules card right back where you found it behind the cupboard. The joker you leave on one of the shelves where there aren’t many other cards. You don’t know how the Card Kingdom citizens would react to Jevil finally being free. Er… being imprisoned within the confines of reality again, as he might put it.

There’s a shuffling behind you. Alphys has entered the room, and is gathering up the chess pieces that have spilled across the floor. She freezes when you turn around.

“I, uh, thought this place might need a little tidying?”

“No,” you tell her, and your tone is much more authoritative than you meant it to be.

“What—?”

“They all need to stay exactly where they are.”

Alphys obliges, dumping her fistful of pawns back onto the Board. You sigh, grateful she doesn’t question you about it.

 

School ends, finally—it seems like it’s practically zipped by today, but maybe that’s just because you haven’t been paying attention in any of your classes. The first thing you do is to wander over to the closet. Like the five other times you’ve checked on it today, it’s still locked. And Susie is still missing.

You call your mom. Ask when Asriel’s going to be back. After dinner, she says. You can hang out more with your new friend until then, she says. There’s nothing more in the entire world you’d rather do, but that just isn’t possible right now.

You don’t tell her that, though.

 

The library is the same as always—teens are lounging around, Temmie’s reading manga instead of studying—and the blue birdlike monster is standing next to, rather than in front of, the stairs.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” they intone. “I was a little mixed up. You should check out the books upstairs! I’m sure you’ll find them very, very interesting.”

You stop, and simply look at them for a while. There’s definitely something off about them, something you can’t quite place. They feel like a puppet. An empty vessel, perhaps.

At the top of the stairs is a small, dusty, quiet room without any windows. Like the bunker, it feels like you’ve walked into another liminal space—like there’s something beyond just this room, even if you can’t see it. The ceiling is low, and a couple lanterns scattered around the shelves are the only source of light. Despite being dimly lit, it doesn’t feel creepy—you’d call it  _ cozy, _ almost. There’s a couch, some chairs, a sparse desk, and a couple tall bookshelves. A few shelves are home to not books, but magazines, or even thick stacks of paper stapled together.

Most of the books seem normal enough. History is a common topic, and there’s a fair number of titles by Gerson Boom. There are also many books dedicated to general scientific theory, although much of it you don’t understand. You notice Alphys’ name on a couple articles about robotics or electrical engineering, though when you leaf through the thin pages of one, you get lost on the second sentence.

As promised, you spot a couple papers by one W.D. Gaster. “On the conversion of geothermal energy into magical electricity,” one is titled. Sounds kinda boring. “Thermodynamic requirements of a self-sustaining conversion core” and “Magical approaches to counteracting potential ozone-related hazards in a high-electricity environment” likewise fail to pique your interest. Maybe this Gaster guy isn’t all that interesting after all? Or maybe, if he  _ was _ the one to create the Dark World, he just didn’t publish anything about it.

Finally, you discover what you came for. It’s a printed manuscript with handwritten scribbles in the margins—a paper in the process of revision rather than a completed one. Judging by the dust that stirs when you take it, the article was never finished. The title is likewise a work-in-progress: “Properties of Determination” is crossed out in pen, and underneath it reads, “Determination: Extraction, Characteristics, and the Quest for Life Beyond Death???? no that sounds too much like an anime episode title…..”

It’s by Alphys, of course. You blow the dust off the front page and walk over to the couch, sinking onto it. The paper is durable, but the document is old enough that it feels like you’re going to rip it if you’re not careful.

The whole thing is jam-packed with scientific jargon (what the hell is an  _ amalgamate? _ ), but you manage to understand the main points—determination is a quality that human souls naturally possess, giving them the ability to “persist after death.” It also looks like some weird time travel stuff is involved? Your eyes glaze over as soon as the paper starts to devolve into complex physics equations, but a name on the following page pulls you sharply back into reality. It’s your father’s.  _ Asgore. _

Did Asgore ask her to undertake this research? It sure seems that way, from the context in which Alphys is mentioning him. But your dad doesn’t really know much about science, beyond botany. Curious.

The paper starts to describe the actual experiment. A nonhuman  _ vessel _ to be injected with determination. Monster corpses. Reanimation. Amalgamation. Failure. And a golden flower. Your breath catches in your throat.

You close the document, shove it into your backpack, and begin to rapidly descend the stairs, heart pounding.

 

Alphys isn’t at the school. When you ask around, none of the teachers have seen her. Did something happen? You circle the entire campus twice, the second time more desperate than the first, then suddenly remember the alleyway where you saw her two days ago.

By the time you arrive, you’re out of breath, wheezing and coughing and staggering against the wall. Alphys starts, accidentally knocking over the bowl of milk to her left. It pools around her feet, and she leaps out of the way.

“K-kris!” she exclaims, stepping toward you. “Uh… are you okay?”

You set your backpack on the ground, rifle through it, and then produce the now slightly-rumpled paper. Alphys just looks at it.

“Is that your report? It’s not due for another week, but, um, I’d be happy to—”

She stops. Her hand reaches out, almost of its own volition, and pulls the document from your insistent fingers, holding it out in front of her as if inspecting an artifact from thousands of years ago.

“How—how did you find this?” she whispers.

“Library,” is the only word you can manage between gulps of air.

“Why does it—?” She turns it over, flips through the pages as if not really seeing them, then returns to the cover, mystified and more than a little wonderstruck. Her eyes trace the handwriting on the front, reading the title (and subsequent corrections) over and over. There’s a long, anticipatory pause. Her tight grip leaves a permanent crease in the old paper.

Then, in a very, very small voice, she whispers, “I don’t remember writing this.”

“You did,” you insist, as if that will help.

“I—well, the, the handwriting, that’s mine… and the title, that’s definitely something I would say, haha… but… but….”

You help her carefully turn a page. As Alphys scans the abstract, she begins to shake. At first it’s nothing more than a tremor, but by the time she’s finished with the paragraph it’s escalated into a full-blown spasm. Her fingers release the paper, and you catch it before it can fall into the spilled milk as Alphys crumples to the ground, hands clutching her forehead, blank eyes staring into nothingness before her.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, and her eyes begin to well up. “Oh my god.”

You can do nothing more than crouch down and watch as your teacher has some sort of existential crisis in front of you. The milk laps at her shoes, but she pays it no attention. Her eyes are squeezed shut now, hands curled into fists as if struggling against something.

Seconds, minutes pass. You stay. The milk begins to disperse, trickling into tiny cracks in the ground.

Finally, Alphys whispers, “What  _ happened _ to me?”

You have no answer. She’s the only one who can tell that.

She looks up at you, suddenly looking decades older. A sort of odd recognition flashes across her face.

“Are you—you can’t be—the fallen human…?”

You shrug.

“Kris, I—I don’t know what’s going on—why did I never realize—why are we all  _ here? _ Where are we??” The panic in her voice rises with every word, and she pushes herself up onto her knees, staring at you with eyes that aren’t those of a cardboard cutout, eyes that have seen terror and pain and death and transformation and  _ hope. _

“I don’t know.”

“How long has it been?”

“I don’t know,” you echo.

“But you—you do know what I’m talking about, r-right? The Underground, and—?” She notices your blank expression, and seems to deflate. “S-sorry. I’m so sorry, Kris. You just… look like someone I used to know. Well, uh, I, I never met them, but, you know. I saw pictures. And heard stories.”

Slowly, cautiously, you say, “Chara?”

Alphys’ eyes widen. “You do know them…!”

“Sort of.” You refuse to elaborate—Chara’s threat from last night comes back to you, crystal clear. You can’t tell anyone what you know.

Finally, Alphys staggers to her feet. She glances around the alleyway as if seeing it for the first time, then shakes her head and begins to walk away from you. “I just… need to think a bit. Might not be at school tomorrow.” She chuckles weakly. “At school… a teacher… how weird….”

Still holding the scientific paper, you watch Alphys wander out of the alleyway and finally disappear from sight. Her footprints are stained with milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was super fun to write, especially the end! and i loved coming up with names for gaster's scientific papers...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess now would be a good time to say that i'm not really sure what the update schedule's gonna look like for this - i've got the drafts of a couple more chapters done, but expect updates to be somewhat sporadic, at least when i start school again next week

You’ve barely turned onto the main street when the sound of your name thunders into your ears—a loud, harsh, familiar voice, accompanied by wild footsteps. You whirl around to see Susie crashing towards you, her expression almost frenzied, hair whipping out behind her. A sudden relief flows through you. She’s safe.

She stops feet away from you, seeming to sense you’re not one for unannounced hugs, face molding into a sort of grin-slash-scowl.

“I’ve been looking for you for half an hour!” she shouts. “Where were you??”

“The library.”

“The library? Why?”

You hold up the crumpled paper. Susie squints at it.

“What’s that?”

“It’s….” You consider your options. You could explain determination, Alphys’ freakout, the mystery of W.D. Gaster—hell, even Chara. But that’s too much for right now. And, besides. It’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening, even if you’re not entirely sure they’re still in your head. “...Not important. How did you get out?”

“Out?”

“Of the Dark World.”

“Through the empty classroom? Like last time?”

Huh. “Did Rouxls take you through the void?”

“Uh, what??”

“How you left the Dark World. Not how you got back here.”

“I—” Susie stops, thinking. Realization dawns on her face. “There was a portal, I think? I don’t—I don’t really remember.”

There it is again. That mysterious, disturbing memory loss that afflicted Alphys too. Or maybe it’s a different one this time?

“Was Rouxls involved,” you press.

“Rouxls Kaard? Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“He took me through this… this weird blank void space.”

“Hm.” Susie squints, scratching the back of her head. “Yeah, maybe it was that. I dunno. Don’t think I was paying much attention. I was just worried, I guess.”

“Worried?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes return to your face, a long, intense stare. “Something feels really fucking off. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

You nod, again considering mentioning Chara. But it feels as if speaking their name even once more will summon them up from the dormant depths of your mind, and you’ll be dragged back into that dark, soundless space to finally make your decision. The demon that comes when you call their name. Comply with their conditions or lose your soul.

“Any idea what’s up?”

You shrug. It’s not exactly a lie. You definitely don’t have the whole story.

“Hmm.” She eyes you again, then sighs. “So. How’s it been going? Anything to report? Did you solve your whole… possession problem?”

A cold chill runs through you. “Sort of. Temporarily.”

“Temporarily. Okay. That’s… better than nothing, I guess.” A pause, then her eyes meet yours—or at least try to, what with your overlong bangs. “If, uh, if there’s anything I can do to help…”

You smile and quietly thank her for the sentiment. The thought, at least, is nice.

 

You’ve got a couple hours before you’re due back home, so you decide to take Susie to see the mysterious bunker.

“How’s Ralsei?” you ask as the two of you make your way to the bottom of town.

She shrugs. “Dunno, we didn’t talk much. He seems fine, I guess.”

“Did he get back okay?”

“Back? Where?”

“To the castle. After I left.”

Susie’s brow furrows, as if she doesn’t quite understand you, then shrugs again. “Wasn’t really keeping track of where he was, honestly.”

“What were you doing?”

“Hanging with Lancer. Making music. Drawing. It was great.”

“Glad you had fun,” you tell her, and try to make your voice sound cheery because you really  _ do _ mean it. You might not have been having the time of your life—hell, your entire life has basically shattered in front of your eyes and you’re still kicking as if nothing happened—but hey, at least Susie’s smiling as she recounts a prank that she and Lancer played on one of the Rudinns.

You reach the bunker, and its chilling hum reaches your ears, possibly even louder than before.

“This is where I came out,” you tell Susie.

She leans against the grassy mound. “Damn. Guess I should’ve known this place would be used for some magical fuckery. It’s got that feel to it.”

It does. “I wonder if there are any other portals.”

“Yeah. Hey, maybe if we try hard enough we could come out of the closet at school too.” She laughs a little too loudly at her own pun, then suddenly shifts her attention from the bunker doors back to you. “You’ve been talking a lot more than usual today.”

“Guess I finally found my voice,” you say quietly. You’ve noticed it too—speaking just feels a little less uncomfortable today. Maybe it’s a side effect of your freedom from Chara. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Susie, despite what you may have felt two days ago, makes you feel safe.

Susie eyes the heavy metal doors again. “What was in there? Just the Dark World? Or—?”

“A lab.”

“Like, a mad scientist lab?”

“Sort of.”

You give one of the doors a tug—for no reason, really. You’re not expecting anything to come of it. But, miraculously, there’s a hard grating sound, the chafe of metal against concrete, and it cracks open. Susie freezes, eyes wide.

“Didn’t you say it was locked??” she hisses after five seconds of surprised, fearful, excited silence.

“It was before.” You pull on the door harder, and the crack widens into an entrance. Darkness seeps out of it, almost seeming to discolor the grass at your feet. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this.

Susie whips out her phone, training a beam of light on the opening. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

You follow her inside, making sure to stick a small rock under the door so it doesn’t slam shut behind you. The blackness seems even more absolute than before—none of the machines are turned on, and every sound you make feels like a resounding crash. With the help of Susie’s light, you see once more the wires snaking across the floor, the desks with their dormant computers, the layer of dust in the air. The darkness is thick—you can’t see more than a couple feet in any direction. Even so, when Susie turns towards the back of the room, you can tell that the door leading to Rouxls’ blank void is gone.

There’s a click. A dim green light flickers on behind you, bathing its surroundings in dark, artificial emerald. You jump, then begin to approach the light source—one of the many computer screens. Displayed across its black surface is a list of file names.

“Did this happen before?” whispers Susie.

You shake your head, squinting at the words on the screen. They’re incomprehensible.

Before you can select one of the files, or even figure out where the computer’s mouse is, it selects one for you. A strange, eerie sound pours from the tinny speakers, and the screen goes black. Pixelated symbols begin to play across its surface. Terrifying, yet mesmerizing.

“Wait,” calls Susie once three or four groups of symbols have flashed by. “Wait. This is—I know how to read this.”

She holds up her phone and begins to take a video. The computer continues to play its message.

Then it shuts off. The light dies.

“What was that?” you ask Susie.

“It’s in this weird font. Dunno what it’s used for, but I remember messing around with my mom’s computer when I was younger and turning all the documents to this font so they were unreadable. Think I can figure this out. Got a paper and pen?”

She pulls out a chair from a nearby desk, sitting down and setting her phone on the table. Its glow is just enough to find your own phone in your backpack. You search around, finally producing a piece of lined paper and the pencil from your pocket. Susie takes them, and begins to write.

“Should I look up the font?” you say, minutes later. She’s transcribed the contents of her video onto the page, and is squinting at the symbols, trying to remember each one’s analogue in the Roman alphabet.

“Sure.”

There’s no reception. You make your way over to the door, sticking the phone out of the thankfully still-open crack. Nothing. It’s as if the neverending drone of the building is jamming the signal.

“No service,” you call back to Susie.

“Run up to the town and try there,” she yells back, the loud noise seeming to fracture the darkness a little.

You heave open the door and begin to sprint back the way you came. As soon as you’re out of earshot from the bunker’s hum, the signal returns, and you quickly look up “weird symbol font.” Nothing relevant shows up. You try a couple more searches, eventually finding a guide to what you were looking for—the font Wingdings.

Back in the bunker, you set your phone down in front of Susie, and she begins to translate. Even though she only got half of the message, it’s still a good couple lines of text.

Eventually, she comes up with the following:

_ This next experiment / seems / very / very / interesting … _

You glance downward, to where Susie has just written down the last symbol of the last line, and your stomach fills with dread.

_ What do you two think? _

“Is it,” breathes Susie, “is it talking about us?”

You shake your head. You don’t know. You don’t want to know, and you don’t think you’re supposed to know. Grabbing Susie’s hand, you gather up your paper, pencil, and phone, and pull her towards the door.

Once you’re outside, it clicks shut. You have a feeling you won’t be able to open it again for a while.

“What was that all about??” says Susie finally. “Whose lab is this?”

“Apparently the person who lived here created the Dark World.”

Her eyes widen. “Could that be the experiment they were talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur. You sink to your knees, massaging your forehead, eyes aching from the sudden light. Susie stays standing, gaze fixed on the red doors behind you.

“You know what? Fuck this. I don’t care. Everything’s felt so goddamn fake from the moment we stepped into that empty classroom, and I just. Don’t want to deal with it anymore. Fine, so maybe we’re part of a mysterious experiment. I just want to… I don’t know. At least I have the Dark World, right?”

She takes a deep breath, lets it out as a sigh-slash-huff. You don’t look at her. You try not to think about Chara.  _ You must destroy the Dark World… _

“I’m just gonna go home,” you hear Susie say, “and forget about everything. Seeya tomorrow, Kris.”

Her footsteps retreat until you can no longer hear them. You sit there, eyes closed, head filled with the hum that’s now just background noise to you. You feel like crying, for no particular reason at all. You want to lay down and sleep until your dreams conjure up a world that’s better, where you don’t have the constant fear of losing control of your body to an alien in your mind, where everything can exist as it is, not hidden behind multiple layers of reality…

“Hey,” comes a voice from beside you, bringing you back to your senses.

It’s Flowey. You can’t tell how long he’s been there, sprouting from the ground just a couple feet away. Somehow, his appearance doesn’t even faze you.

“Hi,” you sign back. You’re done with talking aloud for the day.

“Sucks, doesn’t it? Not knowing anything?”

You don’t reply. You wonder how much of your conversation he heard.

Flowey continues. “Anyway, guess I’m in the same boat as you, huh? Both thrown into a world that belongs to someone else? Come on, we both know this timeline is constructed. It’s all a bit too out of place to be real.”

“Constructed by Chara,” you tell him. You have to finger-spell their name.

He sighs. “Makes sense. Only they’d have the power to do something like this. Them—or that weird scientist guy, I guess.” His resigned, almost grim face suddenly takes on a new kind of energy. You might’ve called it determination if that wasn’t such a loaded term. “Ha! Suppose I should thank them for that. In a whole new universe, who knows what might happen? Certainly not me! It’s exciting!”

“Who are you?” you ask.

“I told you! Flowey, the flower.”

“Where did you come from? Another world?”

“Yeah. It’s bigger than this one. The part I know is all underground. That’s where all the monsters live.”

“Why underground?”

“The humans sealed them there.”

“Why’d they do that?”

Flowey makes a gesture that you interpret as a shrug. “Fear, mostly.”

You can’t imagine that. A world without monsters seems absurd. “Did Alphys create you?”

He squints at you. “How’d you know that?”

“I found a paper about it.”

“Weird.”

“You were an experiment, right?”

“That’s not all I was!” protests Flowey. “She had no idea what she was doing when she resurrected me! She didn’t know I was already sentient. But then she went and injected me with determination, and… I guess I’ve gotta thank her for that.”

_ Resurrected _ is new. “What were you before?”

“Not a flower,” is all Flowey will say. His expression is dark and distant, eyes slightly narrowed and seeming to look past you into another reality.

You sit in silence, listening to the hum of the building next to you, pulling up clumps of grass to give your hands something to do. It’s so strange to think that everyone you know (everyone? or just most people? you’re not sure how to tell) was originally… someone else. At least, that’s how you’ve been interpreting it. When you showed her the paper, did Alphys revert back to her former self? Or did she suddenly gain memories from another timeline?

“Stop that,” says Flowey suddenly. “Grass has feelings too, you know.”

You blink, looking at the tufts of grass between your fingers. “Does it?” you say aloud.

He laughs. “If it’s anything like me, it’s got all the bad feelings and none of the ones that matter.”

You don’t really know what he means by that. Either way, you stop pulling up the grass. You have the sudden desire to look Flowey in the eyes and shove the entire clump into your mouth, but you think that would forever tarnish your budding friendship. (Friendship? Are you really friends? You don’t know.)

“Who is Chara?” you ask suddenly, switching back to sign language.

Flowey starts. “I thought you knew them.”

“I don’t know much about them.”

“They…” He pauses, looking for the right words. “They used to be my best friend. Sometimes I like to think they still are. But… I don’t know. This whole world-building project they have going on here makes me think that… they don’t need me anymore, or something.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just ask yet another question. “Are they from the Underground?”

“No, they were a human who fell into the Underground. They were adopted by… by the king and queen. But there was this whole thing about the barrier sealing us all underground, which could only be broken with human souls, and they wanted to sacrifice themself to help free everyone….” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Man. It seems like forever ago. Anyway, everything went horribly wrong and they died. And then came back, later. It’s complicated. I don’t really wanna go into it.”

It does sound complicated. And you doubt it’d mean much to you anyway. You nod.

When you check the clock on your phone, it’s quarter to six. Shit! Almost dinner time. You abruptly stand, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Hey!” yells Flowey, and you kneel down to look at him.

“I need to go,” you tell him. “My brother is coming back.”

His angry face transforms into a look of pure curiosity. “You have a brother?”

“Asriel,” you say aloud.

Flowey’s entire demeanor changes. His stalk wavers, seeming almost petrified in—in fear? In sudden understanding? Dread? Hell, you think you even detect a hint of  _ regret _ in his impossible-to-read expression. His eyes are wide, mouth slightly open, staring at you.

“Asriel,” he repeats, as if it’s a name he’s never heard before. But he has. He so obviously has.

“Have you met him?” you ask, excited.

There’s a long silence. Flowey blinks, uncertain how to answer.

“No,” he says.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, confident. “I haven’t. And I don’t think I want to.”

You’re about to ask why not, but Flowey’s already burrowed into the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and one more chapter for tonight!! i had a lot of fun writing this one...

“When’s Asriel coming?” is the first thing you ask your mother the second you step through the door.

“Soon!” she tells you, not moving from her chair nor tearing her eyes away from her book.

“What time?”

“He said 6:30 in his email.”

You glance to the clock. It’s not even six. This is going to be a long half hour.

 

According to Toriel, Asriel will have already eaten by the time he arrives, so you go ahead and eat without him. It’s the leftover pot pie from yesterday. You barely taste it—your gaze keeps going to the two empty places at the table, and your mind to the fact that one of them will soon be filled.

“He’s staying for a week, right?” you ask for about the fourth time.

“Six days, yes.”

Six days. It seems so long, and yet so short. You’ll have to be at school for a lot of that time, too. You know Alphys would let you skip to spend time with your brother, but you doubt the other teachers would give you that same courtesy.

“Kris, honey?” Toriel’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts. “I think we have something we must discuss.”

Your head jerks upwards, stomach instantly beginning to churn. Has she caught on to any of the strange happenings? Has she figured out about Chara, or the other world, or—??

“I’m worried you haven’t been sleeping,” she says, her voice perfectly encapsulating the emotion of Concerned Mother. You can’t help but let out a small breath of relief. “Last night, I woke up very early in the morning to use the toilet, and heard you tossing and turning. The night before that, I heard you pacing around the room as well. Is everything all right?”

You murmur something about bad dreams. Her face softens.

“Would you like to tell me about them? Perhaps I could help.”

Shaking your head, you shove another bite of tasteless pie into your mouth and check the clock. 6:12.

“I understand. Well, be sure you do not keep Asriel awake for too long tonight! He will be very tired from his travel.”

That’s right—Asriel will be sleeping in his own bed, won’t he. The prospect excites you, but also sends a wave of anxiety through your mind—if Chara were to throw your soul in the birdcage again, it would almost certainly wake him up.

 

6:30 comes and goes. Five minutes pass. Ten. You sit by the door, not ready to pull out a book or a game in fear of losing your concentration on the imminent arrival of your brother. He’s fifteen minutes late, now. Sure, 6:30 was a rough estimate, but….

There’s a knock. You jump up so fast your head starts to swim, dashing to the door and yanking it open.

Asriel stands outside with a backpack and a suitcase, absolutely beaming. He’s taller than you remember—almost Toriel’s height, but not quite there yet. His curled horns are a little longer, and his eyes are the same piercing, vivacious green. He’s wearing a sweater nearly identical to yours, except for the two cream-colored stripes rather than one.

He is very, very real.

You start to sob.

“Kris!!” cries Asriel. He drops his suitcase and kneels before you, enveloping you in a warm, crushing hug. His fur is smooth and smells like daffodils, and his voice has barely dropped an octave since he was a child. You cry and cry into his shoulder, not even paying attention to Toriel’s footsteps behind you, her excited chattering as she asks Asriel how his journey was, does he want some pie, here, I’ll take your bag for you….

“Stop it, Kris,” whispers Asriel once Toriel’s left the room, suitcase in hand. “You’re gonna make me cry too! Oh, man, I’ve missed you so much….”

You take a deep, shaky breath, and pull away, nodding fervently. You don’t know what you could say that hasn’t been communicated already by your insistent embrace.

Then Toriel’s back, and you stand up and wipe your eyes as she begins to shower him in questions about college. You move to the kitchen, and Asriel sits down in his usual spot next to you, excitedly telling her that college is great, he’s learning so much, he wishes he had more friends but that’s okay, it’s fun and interesting and he’s glad to be there. Your heart sinks a little at his animated descriptions, and you kind of hate yourself for it.

Asriel turns to you, eyes bright and curious. “How’s it been going over here, Kris? How’s school?”

“Okay,” you say quietly. Then, because you feel like he deserves more of an answer— “I like Alphys.”

His eyebrows rise. “Alphys! I never had her, but I’ve heard good things…”

You tell him you made a new friend. You tell him you’ve been hanging out with her. You don’t tell him that an entity from another world has been inhabiting your body for as long as you’ve been alive, or that there’s a closet at your school that’s a portal to another world, or that in the past few days you’ve begun to question everything you’ve ever known. But you think he might see it in your eyes—an anxiety that Toriel can’t recognize.

And when she goes up to bed, again bidding that the two of you don’t stay up too late (“10:30 is a good bedtime for both of you!”), Asriel’s placid face grows a shade darker, and he turns to you with an emotion that isn’t quite  _ concern _ but is just as deeply thoughtful.

“How are you, Kris?” he asks, and it’s not in a shallow  _ good to see you again my dearest sibling _ way; it’s as genuine as it gets.

“A lot’s been happening,” you sign. You’d been speaking aloud for Toriel; now, you revert back to a more comfortable form of communication.

“A lot good, or a lot bad…?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well… let me know if you need anything.”

You want to tell him everything. You want to pour out your heart and soul. But you remember Chara’s warning, and your hopes and dreams vanish.

“What about you?” you ask.

He sighs. “I mean… I wasn’t lying when I said all those things about liking college! But I do wish I could come back here more often. It’s just not all that convenient, you know.” He pauses, looking out into thin air. “And… let’s be honest, this town isn’t always the most, uh, understanding place.”

You quirk an eyebrow, hoping that your bangs aren’t thick enough to obscure Asriel’s view of your face. He’s the only one who’s allowed to see your expressions, know what you’re feeling.

“Well… I figured out that I’m gay, for one thing, and I don’t know how some people here would feel about that? Of course they’d be nice about it, and accepting, but… I just don’t know.”

“They were okay with me being non-binary,” you say.

“That’s true. I guess what I’m saying is… you were always very vocal about who you were. Well, not  _ vocal, _ haha. But you never pretended to be something else. If that makes sense.”

_ You never pretended to be someone else. _ The statement fills you with an irrational fear, but you know he doesn’t mean it that way. You push down the feeling. “Were  _ you _ pretending?”

“I…” He considers this, brow furrowing. For a moment, he looks truly lost. “I don’t know. I know I did a lot of things when I was younger that weren’t really me. They made everyone like me, but… I don’t think they were really who I am.” He doesn’t elaborate, just continues to stare at the wall.

“I think,” you say slowly, “that everyone liked you because of how kind you are.”

Asriel smiles, chuckles a little. “Yeah. Thank you. That… that part was genuine.”

You think about the conversations with neighbors you’ve had for the past couple days. The constant cry of  _ Asriel, Asriel, Asriel. Your brother is so amazing, Kris. _ And the subtle implication:  _ You should be more like him. _

There’s nothing you’d rather do than be more like him. But that isn’t who you are. And apparently that isn’t who he is, either. It feels… somewhat comforting.

“So,” Asriel says suddenly, turning the conversation to a lighter topic, “have you played any good games recently?”

You shrug. Not since he left.

“I was thinking we should play Kirby’s Epic Yarn together! Yeah, I know it’s an old game, but I’ve just been feeling nostalgic lately. Oh, or maybe the new Smash….”

This reminds you of a very important question you’ve been meaning to ask your brother. In the most serious voice you can muster, you clear your throat and ask aloud, “Asriel. Have you been paying your taxes.”

Asriel lets out a confused laugh. “Uh… of course I have, Kris! I’m a law-abiding citizen!”

“Hm. But you main Yoshi in Smash.”

“What does Yoshi have to do with taxes??”

“Yoshi commits tax fraud, Asriel.”

He gasps melodramatically, covering his mouth with his hand. “But Kris! He’s a cute green dinosaur! He would never do something like that!”

“Looks can be deceiving,” you say, folding your arms.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides! Who would Yoshi even pay taxes to??”

“Princess Peach?” Depends if he’s a legal citizen of the Mushroom Kingdom or not.

“Yoshi respects Peach. He would definitely pay taxes to her.”

It makes sense, but the evidence against it is just too overwhelming. You’re about to argue when you hear Toriel calling for you to come upstairs. It’s not even 10. You guess she just wants you to get sleep.

If tonight is anything like last night, you know that’s not going to happen, but you obey anyway, trudging up the stairs with Asriel behind you.

You stop him just as he’s about to enter the bathroom, suddenly determined to tell him something,  _ anything _ about your situation.

“I’ve been. Sleepwalking,” you tell him softly. “I’m… sorry if I wake you up.”

Asriel smiles and ruffles your hair. “It’s okay! I won’t mind.”

You nod, and pretend that you aren’t filled with dread at the night to come.

 

You suppose it makes sense that you’re most vulnerable when you’re asleep. Your consciousness is distracted, fragmented, easy to take over.

At least you’re not alone this time. Asriel’s face is almost visible in the dark, tranquil as can be. His arms are wrapped around his pillow. Maybe… maybe anything that happens tonight will be okay, if he’s there with you.

You don’t notice yourself falling asleep. Let come what comes, you figure. You don’t remember your dreams.

You do notice when your body begins to move of its own volition, starting you awake, clumsily throwing the covers off and lurching into an unsteady standing position. Your eyes open, fix themselves on Asriel’s sleeping form. Your stumbling legs carry you towards him.

_ No, _ you whisper in your mind, heart pounding, head spinning, barely awake.  _ No, no, you can’t hurt him, please… _

Your hands reach out in front of you and sign, “What makes you think I am going to hurt him?”

You—no,  _ Chara _ —tiptoes over to Asriel’s bed, extends an arm, and gently shakes him awake. He murmurs something, blinking and shuffling his legs around.

“What is it, Kris?” he slurs, half asleep.

Chara sits on his bed, back hunched, moving your body into a position that takes the least energy possible to maintain. “I just wanted to say hi,” they sign.

Asriel rubs his eyes, glancing at the clock. “It’s 2 in the morning, Kris….”

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S fine.” He pushes himself up, leaning against the bed frame, not looking at you properly. “What’s up? Have a bad dream?”

“No,” says Chara. “I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.”

He smiles. “Missed you too.”

There’s silence. Asriel seems more awake now, seeming to sense that Chara has more to say. They scoot closer to him, trying to mask their jerky movements, using the wall to support themself.

“I wish that I had someone to talk to,” they say finally.

“You can talk to me.”

“You aren’t here all the time.”

“I’m here now.”

Another pause. The only sound is the faint whisper of the wind outside.

“Asriel,” says Chara. “Do you ever feel afraid of yourself?”

You expect your brother to protest, shake his head, ask you if you’re okay. Instead he just sighs. “Yeah. I get that.” He draws his knees up to his chest, shivers. “It’s like… there’s a voice in my head that’s always telling me that no one likes me, that I’m going to hurt everyone I love. Typical mental illness, I guess.”

Chara seems to stiffen. A second later, they ask, “Do you listen?”

“Only when I’m feeling particularly depressed.”

“That’s not who you are.” Chara feels so sure of themself, so desperate. “If you didn’t have your love, your compassion… you would not be Asriel.”

“Yeah… yeah, you said that.” The corners of his mouth twitch. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not. I… feel that way too. Sometimes.”

“Oh?”

“Fractured. Not myself.”

“How do you deal with it?”

Chara is silent for a long time. Their fingers are trembling.

“It is… hard to say. I suppose it helps to think of the reason I’m here.”

Asriel laughs. “Existential, huh?”

“I want… I want to make everything better. But it is difficult.”

“It’s hard for one person to change the world.”

They don’t reply. Finally, eyes focused firmly on their hands, they ask, “Asriel. Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“What?? Kris, why would I think you’re a bad person??”

“You don’t know what I’ve done. I have made many poor decisions.”

“I swear I would love you just the same, no matter what you’d done.”

“It… doesn’t matter. None of it matters. It’s in the past. Gone. Erased. Nothing but memories and bad dreams.”

Asriel peers at you, confused. Chara stays completely still.

“I know this means nothing to you,” they continue.

“Do you want to explain?”

“I would rather not.” Then: “I wish I could do this without everything falling apart.”

“Falling apart?”

“I’m tired, Asriel.”

“You should sleep.”

“That won’t solve anything.”

“It will make you feel better.”

“It won’t,” says Chara. They’re drained; their power over your body is starting to dwindle.

“Please, Kris. Tell me how I can help you.”

But their presence has faded, and your mind is your own once more. You slump down onto the mattress, tapping your fingers against the sheet to regain feeling in your hands.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, it's been a month since i last updated - sorry all! i completely forgot to post this chapter when i actually finished it.
> 
> anyway, i'm taking a bit of a hiatus from this project, partially because i've been really busy and partially because i've been writing a different fic for an entirely different fandom (which i should get around to posting soon-ish), but i do hope to come back to this fic eventually.
> 
> hope you enjoy the chapter!

You wake up, curled in the center of Asriel’s bed, with a throbbing headache and a vacant mind. The room is bright. Asriel’s gone.

You try to faintly recall the events of last night, but they slip away from your grasp into the aching crevices of your brain. For a couple minutes, Chara fully controlled your body. And what did they do? They talked with your brother. That’s it. Nothing suspicious. Nothing ethically unsound. Just had a cryptic conversation.

Sleep pulls you under once more, and you doze for a couple minutes before starting awake, remembering that you still have school.

Toriel rushes towards you as soon as you descend the stairs, arms extended as if you’ll topple over at any moment and she’ll need to catch you. “Kris!! Asriel told me you had a rough night. Are you okay? Would you like some tea?”

“What time is it?” you murmur.

“Just past eight. Here, let me make you some….”

No way you’re getting to school on time now. You accept Toriel’s tea and oatmeal. It’s warm and fresh.

“Where’s Asriel?”

“He’s at the store.”

“Can I visit him?”

“I… suppose, but you don’t want to be too late for school…”

“I can walk to school,” you tell her, “and see him on the way.”

“Are you well enough for that?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, gulping down the last few bites of oatmeal. At least it’s Friday. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to spend as much time with him as you want.

 

Despite the brightness of the day, it’s chilly outside, and you begin to regret choosing to walk a minute after you leave the house. Nevertheless, you keep going. It’s important that you see your brother.

Just as you’re passing the houses of Bratty and Catty, you spot Asriel at the end of the street. He starts, noticing you, then begins to walk towards you, evidently concerned. Instead of the green sweater he sported yesterday, he’s wearing a purple robe that looks like one of Toriel’s. It suits him.

“Kris!” he cries when he catches up with you. “I thought you were at school! Or, well, at home.”

“I’m going to school,” you tell him.

“Ah… okay. I was just about to head home. I was… visiting Dad.” He jabs a thumb at the flower shop at the end of the road, looking somewhat guilty. Apparently he didn’t tell Toriel where he’d really be going.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly after a short pause. “About last night.”

“Oh! Yeah, I… me too.” Asriel grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “It was late. I don’t really know what I was saying.”

Memories of a conversation you did not participate in come back to you, disjointed. “Me neither.”

“Though… I know we all have our ups and downs, but I do hope you know that you can get help? It gets better, Kris. It’s not all dark and hopeless.”

You blink, not knowing how to respond, and slightly incline your head. Yeah, you know he’s right. But it’s one thing to  _ feel _ broken and another to know that the entire world is broken. You’ll fix this. You have to. But you don’t yet know how.

 

After saying goodbye to Asriel, your intent is to keep pressing on towards school—until something catches your eye on the second street. Sans is sitting on the porch of his, uh, you think you remember him calling it a store…? His hands are in his pockets, and he’s grinning, as usual. You guess this is your chance.

“Hey,” he says when you approach somewhat cautiously. “‘Sup, kid?”

You just kind of look at him. There’s definitely something off—something about him that makes you a bit wary.

“Where are you from?” you ask instead of returning his greeting.

“Another little town. Far away from here.”

“Is it underground?”

Sans’ smile widens. “Why’d it be underground?”

“You know.”

“Don’t think I do.”

You sigh, frustrated. He obviously knows  _ something. _ But fine, he can keep his secrets.

 

When you enter the school, it’s quiet—classes are already in session, and you’re half an hour late. But when you get to Alphys’ classroom, there are only two people there. Susie and Noelle are sitting at the furthest desk from the door, chuckling at some shared joke. Their laughter fades when they see you—Susie looks relieved; Noelle looks slightly alarmed. She stands, mutters a quick, “Oh! I’d better go; I’ve got work to do,” and absconds.

“Alphys didn’t show up, so everyone left,” explains Susie. She’s still smiling slightly—you’re glad she had someone to keep her company while she was waiting. “Dunno what’s up with her. Anyway. Can’t get in trouble for skipping if the teacher’s not here.”

She stands, looking at you expectantly.

“Going back to the Dark World?” you ask.

“Where else’d we go?”

You shrug. You’re… a bit apprehensive of returning just yet. For one thing, Chara might get mad at you again. And then there’s the fact that you returned Jevil’s card analogue in the Light World to the cupboard in the unused classroom, and you don’t know what kind of chaos that might produce.

But then again… if you caused it, you suppose it’s your responsibility to clean it all up. And besides, you’ll get to see your friends again.

You pull open the door, and Susie follows you out.

_ Wait, _ says a familiar voice in your head.

You freeze.

“Kris??” comes Susie’s voice. “Come on, we’re not gonna go through this whole thing again, let’s just  _ go _ —”

You hold up a hand, listening. Susie shuts up.

_ If you speak with Rouxls Kaard, _ Chara continues,  _ he will likely know the procedure required to erase the Dark World. I would not put it past him to disobey his master. _

His master. “Gaster?” you ask aloud, ignoring a confused grunt from Susie behind you.

_ Yes. _

“Kris!” yells Susie, and you snap out of it. “What the hell!”

“Sorry,” you mutter, again starting down the hallway, now even more nervous about entering the Dark World than before. How did they know? Does this mean that Chara really can see out of your eyes at any given moment? Do they know about Alphys? Flowey? You don’t know, and you’re too scared to ask.

 

At least in the Dark World you can be sure they’re not watching.

You appear at the same place as last time—the hard, lavender-colored stone, the translucent, blobby creatures, the pools and rivers of darkness. The entire area seems to serve no purpose but to unnerve you. You’ll have to remember to ask Ralsei about it when you get back to the Card Castle, but you’ll probably have bigger things to worry about before then.

It soon turns out, though, that you don’t need to walk all that way to see Ralsei. As you’re making your way down to the cliff that leads to the Castle Town, you spot a green-cloaked figure waving at you furiously. Your heart leaps, and you go even faster, letting yourself fall down the last couple meters, boots absorbing the shock of the collision.

“Kris! Susie!” cries Ralsei, spreading his arms wide. “I’m so glad to see you alive and well!”

You almost don’t hear him. His face—save the inverted colors and the glasses, of course—is almost a picture-perfect replica of how Asriel looked when he was just a few years younger than you. This isn’t a new realization, of course; it just strikes you because of how recently you’ve seen your brother.

“Why aren’t you at the Card Castle?” you hear Susie ask.

Ralsei’s beaming face transforms into something more sheepish. “They… are having a few problems. I tried to help, of course, but Lancer thought it was best I come back here and study my texts for clues as to how this happened.”

“What  _ did _ happen?”

“Remember that chaotic jester we fought? He’s on the loose! He turned up just after Rouxls came back and Susie left with him… but thankfully they seem to have gotten it all under control! …Uh, Kris? Are you okay?”

Some of your horror must have manifested itself on your face. “That was my fault,” you whisper.

Ralsei instantly starts to shake his head. “No, no, Kris, you mustn’t blame yourself! You were in the Light World—”

“But the Light World influences the Dark one.”

“Well, I—I’m sure it was just an accident!” He turns to Susie. “I’m sure you want to see Lancer and the others—you can explain on the way, if you like.”

 

Once again, you trek through the Field. The mysterious glowing doors, as well as the numerous little shortcuts Ralsei knows cut the journey in half, but it’s still more than enough time to fill Ralsei in on what’s been going on in the Light World. Susie explains the note in the mysterious bunker, and you briefly mention Asriel’s return, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to tell him about the unused classroom. Not yet. It feels like doing so would break the world’s fourth wall, exposing Ralsei to a layer of reality for which he’s unequipped. So you explain away Jevil’s reappearance as “I accidentally took him out of that void place and brought him back here,” which isn’t entirely false.

Ralsei, in his naiveté, doesn’t even question your half-hearted account, seeming not to realize it’s just a small fraction of an even bigger story. He’s so ready to believe you, to assume you’re telling the truth, to go along with whatever you say. And that, for some reason, makes you a little mad. Asriel would never do that, you keep thinking.

 

Ralsei was right—when you get to the Card Castle, the whole situation seems fairly under control. Jevil’s sitting quietly in a makeshift cage at the corner of the throne room, looking petulant but not altogether dejected. It looks like the only damage he was able to cause was breaking a couple things and causing general mayhem. Lancer proudly imparts the tale of how he and Rouxls chased Jevil through the castle, but once you really listen, their daring quest to lock up the chaotic jester doesn’t seem all that impressive. Sure, Jevil’s fast, but it doesn’t sound like he was using any of his magic. Could returning his card to the classroom have taken away his reality-bending power?

While Lancer and Susie are hanging out, you approach Rouxls, who is guarding the cage.

“Sorry for taking you out of the room,” you say, and his grin tells you that he understands exactly what you’re saying.

“Ah, it is fine. ‘Tis not the firste time that hast happened.”

It isn’t? Could that be how he got  _ his _ weird meta powers? You turn to Jevil, who’s been smirking at you.

“Lo, one of the visitors from the Light!” he crows. “I was free, free, but now, by your hand, I am no longer… what is your intent, Lightner? To cage us all so you can strike us down in one fell swoop?”

You start. Does he know what—what you’ve been instructed to do? But Jevil just cackles louder.

“‘Twas but a jest, a jest! But we are not so different, you and I. We have seen outside the bounds of our worlds. We know the nature of the game we all are playing, playing. The shattered man and the fallen child… how long until it falls out of their hands? The universe is too big, too chaotic, to be tamed.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. You… don’t know how to respond to that, so you just turn away, hyper-aware of both Jevil and Rouxls’ stares on your back. You  _ could _ turn around. You  _ could _ ask Rouxls how to destroy the Dark World. But like hell you’re gonna do that. Even planting the idea in your mind could allow Chara to access it.

 

The day goes on. Lancer gives you a tour of the castle, explaining in-depth all the ways he’s planning to upgrade it, including the various ludicrous weapon designs he’s sketched out on blueprint paper. Susie gives him valuable feedback. Ralsei suggests that putting rocket launchers on top of every castle turret, while offering a great opportunity for puns on the multiple meanings of the word “turret,” might be a bit excessive. After all, who is there to defend against? Lancer shrugs and tells him he might change it to fireworks instead.

Minutes blur into hours, and yes, it’s nice to spend time with your friends, but you have a horrible, nagging feeling that you’re not accomplishing anything. Why did you even come back here? You’ve already saved the kingdom; you defeated the King and sealed the Fountain. You suppose it’s an escape, but how much is it really, if you’re continuously worrying about what will happen when you return to the Light World?

Fortunately, there’s another huge cake waiting for you when you head back to the throne room—courtesy of Ralsei, of course—and for a moment all of your fears evaporate. Nothing can really be that bad when you have an abundance of chocolate cake, can it?

But…

There’s something about Ralsei. Something so horribly, beautifully perfect in everything he does, so morally pure, so undeniably  _ good. _ And yes, he makes mistakes, but it’s not like you can really blame him, can you? He’s just a fluffy prince who looks like your brother—like your brother, but without all the issues he confessed to you last night, without any sort of pretense, unconscious or otherwise, distilled down to the pure essence of everything that’s wonderful about Asriel Dreemurr.

It feels like a caricature, designed to torment you.

You can’t have your brother, Kris, so here, take this fantasy boy who’s just Asriel without any of his bad parts! And this time, he’s your age, and so eager to befriend you. How could you possibly be disappointed??

You can’t take it anymore. Yet again, you grab Ralsei’s hand and drag him into a nearby quiet room. This seems to be becoming a pattern.

“Kris? Are you okay?”

You bury your face in your hands, take a deep breath, then look up at him, cornering him with a stare that you hope is as raw and powerful as it feels.

“Who are you?” you ask quietly.

“You know who I am, Kris! I’m the Prince of—”

“I know. I know. I mean. Who are you to me?”

“Your—your friend, I should hope.” His eyes widen. “Oh dear… are you implying that you want to—do you have romantic feelings for me??”

You shake your head fervently, and he seems relieved. God, no, of course not; he’s basically your alternate-universe brother. “I just don’t know why you exist.”

Ralsei’s eyes grow even wider, and you instantly wish you had phrased that differently. “Well… I suppose I exist to help you, don’t I? To do everything the Legend tells us… to restore the balance between Light and Dark, and all that.”

“No… no, I mean…” You sigh, and switch to sign language. “There is… a room in the Light World that corresponds almost perfectly with everything in the Dark World. Every Darkner has an object in there that represents them. Like, Lancer is a card, or Seam is a stuffed animal. But… I don’t know what you are.”

“Fascinating,” muses Ralsei, and for a moment you’re struck with a spark of irrational anger. He’s not supposed to take it this well. This has serious implications for his entire existence.

“I think,” you continue, clarifying—because some sick, awful part of you just wants to  _ break him, _ to make him feel like a pawn in someone else’s game, everything you’ve felt since you learned the true nature of Hometown— “that everyone here was created based on those objects, and is tied to them in some way. When Jevil’s object was taken out of the room, he got that weird… meta-awareness. That’s why he thought he was free.”

“That explains it!” cries Ralsei. “Did you take him out? Oh, no, you must have put him back in! Because he came back to the castle…”

Nope. Not what you were going for at all. “But… you aren’t anything. You’re… like my brother, but not. You’re too perfect, and too kind, and… and it just feels like a joke someone’s playing on me, because they know I miss him, and…”

You trail off, hands falling to your sides. Ralsei is looking at you with an expression you can’t place—taken aback, almost, but also deeply sorrowful.

“You think I’m a joke?” he asks quietly.

You begin to protest, but your aimless gestures don’t end up forming words.

But Ralsei just looks at the floor, and takes in a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right, Kris. I mean… I’ve just been waiting here my entire life; I’d never really talked to anyone properly before you showed up… I knew I wasn’t ever going to be the hero. That’s something I’ve accepted—I really do just exist to support you, to keep the team together, to offer my knowledge and magic when I can. And I’m okay with that! I guess it wouldn’t really surprise me if some sort of higher being conceived my role as as a parallel to something you already had in your life, whether that was to… to laugh at me, or just to make it easier for you, or something. I don’t know who your brother is, Kris! I bet he’s amazing! And I know I will never be him, or even come close. But I would be honored if you’d let me continue being who I am—your helper and your friend.”

He stops, folding his hands together and looking up at you politely. Fuck, you think you’re about to cry again.

“Sorry,” says Ralsei. “That was a bit too much, I think.”

You feel so goddamn terrible. What do you even say to something like that? That you accept him, no matter who or what he is? That you were wrong to project such a judgement onto something he can’t change? That he doesn’t  _ have _ to help you; that he’s more than just a support? You attempt to convey these sentiments with shaky fingers, then break down in tears once more. Apparently this is a common theme when it comes to Asriel and his lookalikes.

Then Ralsei’s arms are around you, holding you gently, whispering that he understands, that he forgives you, that he’s so glad you listened.

You don’t deserve a friend like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i can write more of this sometime!


End file.
